The nation is busy mourning Michael Jackson, Farah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, Billy Mays, Moishe “Clucks” Beakman, and other big-name celebrities who passed away recently.
Yet amid all the hubbub (that’s right, damn it, I’m angry enough to say “hubbub”!), no mention is made of the fact that almost a year ago today Bozo the Clown passed away.
Think about it. Who gave more kids pleasure?
Ed McMahon? His job was to sit on a couch on the “Tonight” show, or introduce bad acts on “Star Search.” That is, when he was sober enough. I would have done his job for half the salary.
Farah Fawcett? She may have fulfilled a service for young boys just discovering jacking the dum-dum, but just try sitting through one episode of “Charlie’s Angels.” It sucks! Almost as bad as the movies.
What did Michael Jackson do for kids? Scared the shit out of them!
Meanwhile, Billy Mays just tried to sell us crap, and the less said about Beakman, the better. We all know about that scandal: the feathers, the bloody spatula, the deep fryer, the caws for help.
But then there was Bozo. The red swooping hair. The bright nose. The big painted smile. The cartoons.
He just wanted to be our pal, make us laugh, forget our childhood worries for a while. Sing us a song.
And yet, no one mourns the death of Bozo, one year later. There are no tears for this clown. No tributes at the Staples Center. No day of mourning called for by Reverend Al Sharpton, who even looks like a black Bozo.
Well, Bozo, my friend, if you’re up there in clown heaven reading this, please know that some of us still care, and still remember. So, grab your big fake nose, Bozo, and honk twice if you can hear me:
It’s Bozo, Bozo,
Always smiles, never frowns,
Bozo the Clown.